


But we were something, don't you think so?

by fleurjaune



Series: but it would've been fun, if you would've been the one [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Bittersweet Ending, Chat Blanc - Freeform, F/M, Grief/Mourning, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, I'm pretty sure this is not what people wanted, Look I was going to tag happy ending but Gabe's still pretty likely to screw it up, Mentioned Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Minor Emilie Agreste/Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Minor Emilie Agreste/Gabriel Agreste/Nathalie Sancoeur, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Beta Read, POV Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Possibly Unrequited Love, Romantic Soulmates, Sad Ending, Sort Of, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Temporary Character Death, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, but - Freeform, but you wanted a continuation, look he shows up to get traumatised, look it's hard to tag, not that any of mine are, so have a bunch of them!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:29:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurjaune/pseuds/fleurjaune
Summary: Gabrieldoesn't find outfinds outis shownrealiseshas to deal with some repercussions
Relationships: Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/Nathalie Sancoeur
Series: but it would've been fun, if you would've been the one [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985606
Comments: 88
Kudos: 55





	1. T+∞

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carola_tavs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carola_tavs/gifts), [lifeisadoozy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeisadoozy/gifts), [minuseven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minuseven/gifts), [red_clover_and_queen_annes_lace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_clover_and_queen_annes_lace/gifts), [hiiraeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiiraeth/gifts).



> The new chapter is number 6! Apologies for the confusion but I didn't want to mess up the pattern by putting it at the end.

He traces the plaque on the wall of the cemetery. She’d been firm that she was to be cremated and not buried.

Whether she actually wanted that for herself, or whether she was just trying to keep the temptation of trying to bring her back out of his hands he doesn’t know. He wants to believe it’s the former but the latter seems depressingly likely. Just another thing to add to the litany of things she’d done for him.

He’d thought maybe she’d have picked somewhere special to scatter her ashes, but instead organised as ever she’d paid for this little setting in the wall before her death. If the location has any meaning to her it’s just one of the many things he doesn’t know about her.

That he’d never asked is only one of his many regrets.

Coming here gets him out of the house. He thinks that she might have liked that. Nathalie was like him, she wasn’t a social creature, but she _had_ been uncomfortable at how he’d withdrawn from the world after he lost Emilie.

He hopes that wasn’t why she chose here. Her death, and the manner of her death were all because of him. For her resting place to be too seems like too much.

For all that he’d have liked to inter her ashes at home. In the garden perhaps. He could have planted a tree.

That was impossible of course.

He’d had no legal claim to her at _all._

All that time they’d spent together, all she’d done for him, his last frantic attempts to save her, none of it had meant anything in the end. On paper he was only her employer.

Her soulmate would have had a claim to her. Could have contested things in the hospital when she’d slipped away, but whoever he is he’s never made himself known.

Gabriel knows she’d claimed he didn’t know but she’d claimed he would _know_ of her death and yet, he’s seen little proof of that.

If he is aware then her doubts over how much he’d mourn her seem vindicated. He’d studied every man that had come to her funeral and he couldn’t see any who seemed particularly affected. Apart from perhaps that ex-boyfriend of hers and he’s only one that he knows for certain it isn’t.

He’d thought maybe he’d catch him at her plaque one day but he never has.

The camera he’d set up across from it hasn’t either.

Perhaps he should pity the man for not knowing what he had, and for effectively losing to him and the death he’d brought upon her but he doesn’t.

Instead he hates him almost as much as he hates himself. 

It’s a distraction at least.

If Nathalie’s soulmate had had her as his soulmate then she’d have had a reason to live and someone to devote herself to other than him. She might still be alive.

She might not have died covered in blood she’d coughed up in a hospital bed, alone save for the medical staff trying to save her.

Sometimes he regrets calling that ambulance. He thinks he _should_ have let her die in her own familiar room in his arms in the house. His doctor could have administered the drugs for the pain. It wasn’t as if anything more they’d done had saved her anyway.

Nathalie had made him call the ambulance. Had used his own words against him, and made him admit how suspicious it would look if she died in secret in the house.

At the end of the day it all comes back to him. Her death is _his_ fault, not her soulmate’s.

And it hadn’t even _been_ for anything in the end.

Sometimes he thinks he’s been aiming for the wrong Miraculous. Maybe he should be going for the Rabbit and should go back and terrorise his younger self until he agrees to never marry Emilie, to never hire Nathalie, and to get them both safely out of his destructive orbit.

He hasn’t the mind for the Rabbit though, and he knows its effects can be reversed too easily. No, he needs the ones he’s been after all this time, even if how he plans to used them has changed.

It all seems so simple now. Since Nathalie’s death, since he’s started using the Butterfly and the Peacock together he’s had such clarity about what he has to do. He’s the centre of all of this and he can fix it.

He takes a step away, “I’m sorry.”

His words lie heavy in the chill air of the cemetery.

“I’m going to end this. I wanted to tell you that. I,” the words feel like a lump in his throat, “If I win, if I can change the past I’ll make a present where you live. I promise you that.”

He’d been holding back. For the sake of Nathalie’s heath. For the sake of her good opinion of him. When she’d been there she’d been a rein on his worst impulses.

He doesn’t have any reason to hold back now. 

He’s already killed her. What does it matter if he does the same to his enemies?

Tomorrow will end with his victory, or his death. Sometimes he doesn’t even really care which.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People wanted an ending so have a bunch of endings of varying quality/characterisation


	2. T+ 5 minutes

He traces the plaque at the bottom of her tree. She’d been firm that she was to be cremated and not buried.

Whether she’d actually wanted that for herself, or whether she was just trying to keep the temptation of trying to bring her back out of his hands he doesn’t know. He wants to believe it’s the former but the latter seems depressingly likely. Just another thing to add to the litany of things she’d done for him that he finally has an explanation for too late.

Sometimes he thinks that maybe he should have just let her be interred in the anonymous cemetery she’d chosen for herself; instead of bringing her back to garden where he can look out from his room and see where he buried her ashes every day and be reminded of his greatest failure.

And it is his greatest failure because he might fail Emilie each time he loses to Ladybug and Chat Noir but what happened to Emilie before that wasn’t only his fault. What happened to Nathalie was. And, he and Emilie, they’d given each other years of happiness before all of this. All he’d given Nathalie was stress and grief, and eventually death.

Having Nathalie here is selfish. He knows that. For all he knows maybe the location she’d chosen did have some meaning for her. After all it turns out that he’d not known anything about her at all. 

He’d known she was dying. He should have asked what she wanted. That he’d never asked is only proof of how one-sided their connection had been, as if his name on her skin, and the absence of her's on his hadn’t been enough. 

He’s haunted by that day in the hospital. He’d been sat there waiting for news, and he’d _known_ somehow that this was the end, that they weren’t going to save her and wondered why he’d called the ambulance just to change the location of her death. She’d told him to do it, but as he’d watched those shut doors waiting for news he hadn’t given a damn about how suspicious it might have looked, because he knew he should have been with her.

* * *

The doctor comes out of the room and they might train them to keep their faces blank until they give the news officially but he can feel the swirling guilt-regret-pity through his Miraculous and he knows the worst has come to pass.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?”

“M.Agreste,” the woman starts, “We’ve rooms for these conversations, would you like to?”

He interrupts her, “I want to see her.”

“That’s not possible right now. We’d need permission from her next-of-kin, or from her,” her voice stutters slightly, “soulmate usually.”

About to point out that neither of those people are here, that they might never be here, and that he _is,_ he stops.

That momentary stumble of the doctor’s has drawn his attention. There’s something there, something he can _use._ She doesn’t actually want to stop him.

He draws himself up to his full height, and turns every bit of conviction and command he’s ever used in both sides of his life on her. “I’m seeing her whether you let me or not. The only question is how difficult you want to make this.”

He doesn’t break eye contact with her, and she shifts uneasily, and looks down at something on her clipboard, “Technically Mlle. Sancoeur only managed to prevent automatic disclosure. None of the legal rights of her soulmate are affected.”

“I’m aware.” It was _his_ legal team that got that concession for her _,_ but there’s an implication there, a dangerous implication that sits like an ulcer in his stomach, but an implication he can use, much as he doesn’t want it to be the truth, so he takes a chance and says. “Let me see her.”

He can see the moment she gives in, “It’s not a pretty scene. Are you sure you don’t want to wait?”

“No. I owe her that much.” He should have been there when she died. He’s not putting this off any longer.

* * *

It’s with a dull lack of surprise that he gets his confirmation scrawled above her collarbone, where her top lies open from how they’d cut away her clothing to use the defibrillator, and though parts are obscured by blood there’s no doubt what it says.

Really He’d known when the doctor had acquiesced to letting him in here.

Whatever Nathalie might have wanted no one was ever going to be comfortable with keeping someone from their soulmate. He hadn’t been even and he wonders dully if he’d known somewhere deep down and that was why.

That feels like giving himself too much credit.

He finds himself tidying her hair, and wishing he had a wipe for all the blood on her, as if he can give her any semblance of dignity when he’s stripped it all from her. She’s still warm for now and he could almost pretend she’s not dead but her utter stillness puts the lie to that fantasy even if the room around them didn’t.

“You should have told me.” He says to her body, even though he doesn’t actually know if it would have made any difference to how things turned out.

It’s obvious why she didn’t. He’s her soulmate, but she’s not his. He wonders whether the people here know that, if they know that fate was cruel to her long before he killed her, or if they think this is a sad but touching scene between a matched couple. 

She’d thought he’d blame her.

She’d thought he’d distrust her.

She’d thought maybe he wouldn’t mourn her.

And she’d died for him anyway.

He hadn’t cried when they’d put Emilie in the casket but he cries for Nathalie now. Funny really how he’d held onto her on both occasions. She’d let him before. Now she can’t stop him.

* * *

They’d had to tear physically him away from her body. He’s been told that but he doesn’t remember it.

He’d still ended up in charge of her corpse anyway. He’d claimed her in death in the way he’d never been able to in life. It had turned out he’d had the right to after all.

All that time they’d spent together and he’d _wasted_ it. Sometimes he wondered if her mark had been a sign that all of this was a mistake. That he’d been meant to let Emilie go, and move on with Nathalie.

He’d been tempted. He’d been tempted many times but he still doesn’t know what he’d have done if he’d known, because it sounds too neat, and maybe for that first minute he _would_ have mistrusted her.

He wouldn’t after that. Not after everything she’d done for him, and how she’d never shown the slightest attempt to seduce him. That he’d been tempted was on _him,_ not on _her,_ except now of course he didn’t know if he’d been meant to do that.

Being Nathalie’s unknown soulmate makes things very simple though. There’s only one person to blame. Himself. 

It also makes it very easy to know what he has to fix.

He’s considered that maybe he’s been aiming for the wrong Miraculous. That he should have gone for the Rabbit and should go back and terrorise his younger self until he agrees to never marry Emilie, to never hire Nathalie, and to get them both safely out of his destructive orbit.

But he knows that wouldn’t work. That wouldn’t make him not Nathalie’s soulmate, and unless he can change that he’s never going to be able to keep her away from him and give her a life of her own. 

No, he knows he needs what he’s be aiming for all along. It’s just his plans for using it that’s changed. It’s all become clear since Nathalie’s death and since he’s started using the Butterfly and the Peacock together.

He’s the centre of all of this and he can fix it by making himself the price. There’s not going to be a Gabriel Agreste to ruin Nathalie and Emilie’s lives once he’s done. They can be happy with other soulmates. _Better soulmates._

Sometimes he fantasises that when he remakes the world into what it should be that they’ll be each other’s soulmate and the two most important women in his life will be happy together without him.

The last time he’d seen Adrien before his son had fled the house in Amélie’s arms he’d felt some slight qualm at the idea maybe Adrien too would be written out of existence in this new better world.

Then he’d seen Felix beside him and been forcibly reminded of how unnecessary _he_ is when it comes to genetically contributing to a child of one of the Graham de Vanilly twins.

Emilie can have her son with another father, and maybe he won’t be called Adrien Agreste, but he’ll be the same boy because in personality as much as looks Adrien is already only Emilie’s son rather than his.

Besides if he has the power he seeks he can control that. He can make it happen.

It’s all so simple now.

He takes a step away, “I’m sorry.”

His words lie heavy like the frost lying on the garden.

“I’m going to end this. I wanted to tell you that. I,” the words feel like a lump in his throat, “If I win, I’ll make a present where you’re alive and you’ve someone better than me. I promise you that.”

He’d been holding back. For the sake of Nathalie’s heath. For the sake of her good opinion of him. When she’d been there she’d been a rein on his worst impulses.

He doesn’t have any reason to hold back now. 

He’s already killed her. Taking a sacrifice from her that he never deserved. What does it matter if he does the same to his enemies?

Tomorrow will end with his victory, or his death. Sometimes he doesn’t even really care which.


	3. T+30 seconds

Chat Noir looks as shocked as he does when his cataclysm takes impact. He thinks the boy had only meant it as a threat. That he’d never meant to actually hit him with it. The heroes think too much of themselves for that type of thing.

Neither of them had been ready for Mayura’s intervention and he’d been sent flying to the ground safely as she’d caught his enemy’s arm, and _why hadn’t she pushed him away_ instead of pulling him towards her in her attempt to get that power away from him.

Mayura is the only one who doesn’t seem shocked as Chat Noir’s hand hits her side. 

She gasps in pain, but as she falls to the ground the only thing he can see in her eyes is acceptance.

Chat Noir kneels by her as her dress peels away from the impact site, and then the skin below starts to bubble, and the entropy spreads down and outwards, and he reaches out as if to try to do something, and then pulls away staring at his hands in horror.

Mayura convulses, her body hyperventilating in shock as her body tries to make sense of what’s happening to it.

He shoves the boy out of the way to take his place and to take Mayura’s hand. He wants to say her real name, but he can’t with Chat Noir there.

“It’ll be ok,” the boy says, “It _has_ to be ok. Ladybug will fix it.”

He looks at him, “You’ve already defeated my akuma. She’s already done her little restoration job. It’s too late now, you shouldn’t have followed us.”

He means it. They’d been defeated. There was no need for this, but the so-called hero had swooped down out of no-where when they’d been trying to make an escape. Ladybug doesn’t even seem to be anywhere around. He doesn’t understand why Chat Noir had even came this direction after their fight.

“No, no, _no,_ ” Chat Noir, “Ladybug can de-transform, and feed her Kwami, and that will be enough and she’ll save her.”

Mayura’s hyperventilating settles down, and he ignores Chat Noir as he focuses on trying to do the only thing he can do and comfort her.

“It’s ok,” he tells her, “you’re going to be ok.”

She shakes her head, and he switches track, “you’re done everything you can.” Struck by the memory of her in the car saying her soulmate mightn’t even care about her passing he feels the need to reassure her, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I,” he stops unable to finish that sentence, “care about you. Deeply.”

He sees the moment the light goes out of her eyes as her body succumbs to the shock.

“Congratulations,” He tells Chat Noir, “You’re more of a murderer than me now.”

The boy’s breathing sped up eerily reminiscent of Nathalie’s a moment ago. “No, I’ll fix it. I’ll find Ladybug and she’ll fix it.”

He ignores him struck by how the cataclysm continues to consume Mayura even after her death. Her dress dissolves up to her shoulder, and he has a moment to think he should shield her from Chat Noir, before he notices the writing there.

His own name mocks him even as the skin around it starts to dissolve and he releases her in his shock.

“What?”

For a second he thinks it’s his own thoughts spoken out loud but it’s Chat Noir.

“No, she _can’t_ be. That can’t be possible. They were a match. I can’t have.” The superhero babbles nonsensically, and he’d disbelieve him because there’s no reason Chat Noir would or should care about Gabriel Agreste’s soulmate, but his Miraculous almost burns against his chest with the strength of the boy’s panic and grief.

It should be his own. _He’s_ the bastard that let Nathalie down, and now she’s dead but he just stares transfixed by the dissolution of her body.

There’s a crackle, and a shriek as the cataclysm finally seems to win the upper hand against the Peacock Miraculous. 

It’s surprising how long it’s lasted given its proximity to the impact site, but then it is the power of one Miraculous played against another. It’s no wonder it lasted longer than Mayura had.

It doesn’t last forever though. Duusu flees with a bloodcurdling screech, and in a wave of blue light he’s left with Nathalie. Or what remains of her.

He hadn’t been able to look away from Mayura.

He’s not sure he can look at Nathalie.

“ _Nathalie?”_ Chat Noir asks as if there’s another possible answer and the boy looks truly broken.

Absently he wonders who he is, and how he could possibly know Nathalie. He seems too old to be the child of any friend of hers.

It doesn’t matter though he realises as his adversary almost howls and jumps at him.

“How could you?” Chat Noir growls, “How did you make her go along with you?”

He easily overpowers him ignoring his question, because it’s not what important right now.

What matters right now is the pure grief and horror pouring out of the boy he’s trapped beneath him.

Nathalie’s murderer.

Nathalie’s _saviour._

“We can fix it.” He says, and Chat Noir’s eyes fix on him, and he wonders if the boy even realises he’s reaching out with Hawkmoth’s powers, and not just talking, “Help me fix it. This isn’t who you’re meant to be. Bring me back Ladybug’s Miraculous and we can save Nathalie.”

He’s never been more thankful for the ability to keep an akuma in his staff. Releasing it onto the transfixed hero, it’s oh so easy to transform him.

“I shouldn’t,” Chat Noir tries to resist.

“Let yourself be the hero.” He tells him, “Save her Chat Blanc.”

Chat Noir’s eyes close, and his suit turns from black to white. When he opens his eyes the green is replaced by a blue the exact shade of Nathalie’s eyes.


	4. T-40 seconds

Mayura is the only one who doesn’t seem shocked, as Chat Noir’s hand hits her wrist as she yanks his hand away from him. 

She gasps in pain, but she as lets go of the hero and stares at her arm as it starts to be consumed into nothing, the only thing he can see in her eyes is acceptance.

Her legs buckle beneath her as her body goes into shock and Chat Noir catches her under her shoulders and lets her down to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” The boy says, “I didn’t mean it, it’ll be ok Ladybug will fix it.”

He can’t keep the incredulity out of his voice, “You’ve already defeated my akuma. She’s already done her little restoration job. It’s too late now, you shouldn’t have followed us.”

He means it. They’d been defeated. There was no need for this, but the so-called hero had swooped down out of no-where when they’d be trying to make an escape. His partner doesn’t even seem to be anywhere around. He doesn’t understand why he’d even came this direction after their fight.

Mayura convulses and the stab of pure horror above his heart seems like his own for a moment, before he realises that it’s Chat Noir seeing the truth in his words.

The so-called hero doesn’t resist as he takes her out of his hold and into his own. “It’s ok,” he reassures her, “I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” she gasps up between hurried breaths, “I’m failing you.”

“No, no,” he reassures her, “Don’t say that. You’ve done everything you could. I know that. _I’m_ the one who’s failed you.”

“I’ll save her,” Chat Noir interrupts, “We can fix this. I’ll find Ladybug and she can de-transform, and feed her Kwami, and that’ll be enough. She’ll save her.”

“It’s ok,” Mayura says, “I’m dying anyway.”

“No,” he disagrees, “We were going to save you, we only came out today because I thought we had a real chance of winning this thing.”

The cloth of her dress, magical or not, seems to give way to the destructive power of the cataclysm before her body does, and her blue arm is bare to her shoulder while it still reaches below her elbow.

The light in her eyes is dimming, and afterwards he thinks that must have been why she lets it happen without trying to shield herself with her other hand.

Her dress flakes away from her shoulder revealing an e then a t then a s then an another e and somehow he knows what it’s going to be before it finishes.

There’s no-one else it could be.

That truth is just as visible to Chat Noir who pulls away the hand he’s been unsuccessfully trying to prevent his destruction reaching further up her arm with.

“No,” he gasps out, “No I can’t have. They were a match. Please tell me I can’t have?” The boy looks up at him, “Who is she? You have to tell me. _Please._ ”

His wish looks about to be granted sooner rather than later as there’s a quiet crackle as the lower levels of the cataclysm reach the Peacock Miraculous. For all the damage it’s already sustained he doubts that it will be consumed while Nathalie’s body lies undamaged beneath it. No, it will end with her. 

“Duusu,” Mayura wheezes out.

“Will be fine. Concentrate on yourself.”

“I can shut my eyes,” Chat Noir offers, “If you want to take it off.”

He doesn’t. He doesn’t at all. He doesn’t want to see this happen to _Nathalie_ instead of Mayura but she frantically nods, and he agrees and pulls it off her ending her transformation, and the damage looks indescribably worse against pale pink skin than it ever did against blue. 

He moves to cover her, even as he knows it’s no shield if Chat Noir should open his eyes, “I didn’t know,” he says as his forehead rests down against hers.

She barely manages to make her words audible but he can make out a “What?”

“That it was me the whole time. I should have known. I would have,” he doesn’t know what he’d have done when he still has his promises to Emilie, to his match, but, “I’d have been more careful.”

This time the only word he can make out from her is “ok” and it’s not ok, it’s not ok at all. Nothing about what’s happened could possibly be described as ok. He’s taken advantage of his name on her skin. He’d ruined her life both knowingly and unknowingly, and it’s not a surprise he doesn’t have her name when he’s the worst thing that’s happened to her.

“You didn’t have to fear me finding out,” that might not have been the truth but it’s the truth right now, “I know you’ve only ever tried to help me.”

She blinks and he’s battered by the pain and terror emanating off her, and he wants to help her. To give her _something._

“I love you.” He tells her and he doesn’t know if it’s a truth or a lie. 

He thinks she understands him from how her remaining hand clutches at his arm the moment before the light goes out of her eyes as her body succumbs to the shock.

“Congratulations,” He tells Chat Noir, “You’re more of a murderer than me now.”

“No.” Chat Noir says, “No, Gabriel Agreste, I’m not.”

He sighs. It’s no surprise the boy’s worked it out. He’d seen her soulmark, and he’d heard that final conversation.

He doesn’t regret it. It seems fitting somehow that all their secrets come out into the open together.

Still, he has to keep fighting. To make Nathalie’s sacrifice worth it. To save her. To save Emilie. To let Chat Noir expose and defeat him now would doom any chance of saving both of them and he might be a man with very few morals but he’s not betraying them.

While Chat Noir still waits for his response he reaches out for the ring on his finger absently noticing the paw print countdown on it.

The hero’s eyes flash open the moment his fingers close on the ring yanking his hand away, “What is _wrong_ with you?” he shrieks, “You’ve just killed your- _Nathalie?_ ”

Chat Noir goes limp and pale as he sees what remains of her, and he takes his chance to pin the boy down.

“Of course it was her.” The boy said, “I don’t, I thought it my m-,your wife for a moment when I saw that soulmark. Were the two of you even a match or was that a lie too? Because everything about you is a lie isn’t it.”

He should be taking advantage of the situation to get his Miraculous but he finds himself transfixed by the vitriol in the hero’s rant. The hatred radiating from him is more than he’s ever felt from him before. It seems, almost, personal.

“All this time I thought you were mourning her, I made allowances for you, I hoped that maybe you and Nathalie could find comfort in each other when you’d both lost your soulmates, and all that time you were Hawkmoth. And you could have had her the whole time and instead you used your name on her to make her Mayura. You’re incapable of love aren’t you? You never loved _any_ of us did you?”

He stares at the blonde teenager below him as a buried suspicion begins to rise back up.

“Not Nathalie.” He spits out. “Not me.”

It all slides into place. Today really is exposing everything.

“Not my,”

“Adrien?”

“Do you even care Father?”

“Of course I care,” his rage starts to rise up to match he’s son’s, “Do you understand what you’ve _done?”_

“She should never have been near that cataclysm,” Adrien squirms trying to get out of his hold.

“No, no she shouldn’t have been,” He agrees as his rage turns to ice, “Because you should have given that ring to me when you received it. I never gave you permission to play the hero did I?”

“I couldn’t let you destroy Paris, or take over the world, or whatever you want.”

He laughs. “Destroy Paris. No. This was all for your mother.”

“No,” Adrien breathes out. “ _No._ ”

“I was going to bring her back. I was going to save her life and all this time you’ve been thwarting me and condemning her an eternal sleep.”

“No, no, _no._ You never told me, why did you never tell me? You should have told me.”

“And you’ve killed Nathalie too. You really have betrayed your family haven’t you?”

“You never told me! I didn’t know, I didn’t mean to.”

“No, I know. You were aiming for me. Would that have made you feel better? If it was me you'd hit?”

Adrien starts to hyperventilate in a manner eerily reminiscent of Nathalie before she died.

“But it’s ok.” He reassures his son, “We can fix this together. We can make it up to your mother and Nathalie.”

“What?” 

The akuma flutters out of his staff, and Adrien isn’t able to even put up a token resistance, “Bring me Ladybug’s Miraculous Chat Blanc. Let’s save them together. As a family.”

The transformation washes over Adrien even as the pawprint on his ring fades and threatens to strip him of his power. “I give you the power of infinite destruction.”

Chat Blanc stares at his hands even as the increased Cataclysm builds there.

He waits for him to call it back, and go after Ladybug.

Instead the light flashes and burns before he has a chance to pull back.


	5. T - 2 weeks

The sudden burst of panic he feels though the Miraculous wakes him up. It takes a moment for his waking brain to work out it’s not _his_ emotion and then he grasps for his Miraculous as if physical contact will make it easier to make sense of what he's feeling.

It's extremely strong, but it’s not just from the depth of the emotion. That strength comes from near proximity. _Nathalie._

He runs to her room and thank god she hasn’t locked the door. She's not there, but he can feel the emotion as if it’s right here and his eyes are drawn to the bathroom door. When he tries it he thinks that it _is_ locked.

“Nathalie?” He calls but he doesn't get a response. He rattles it and she still doesn’t react. Cursing the situation he transforms and with Hawkmoth’s strength he pulls the door off its hinges.

The shower’s running but at first Nathalie is nowhere to be seen and his brain produces horrific images, The Peacock Miraculous dissolving Nathalie into nothing, Nathalie being pulled into a portal by their enemies, Nathalie being…she’s sat on the floor of the shower.

“Nathalie?” he ventures again.

This time she reacts by clutching at her shoulder and gasping out, “Sir?”

He suddenly realises that while she clearly needs help he’s also pushed his way in the room while she’s undressed and grabs a towel to throw over her, while he leans over to turn the shower off.

He crouches down beside her, “Are you ok?”

“Just a dizzy spell.” She says, but her head falls forward as if she’s struggling to stay upright, “Had to sit down before I fell.”

“Come on,” He says putting an arm around her to pull her up, and that was not enough towel, and he would pull it down to cover more but she’s clutching it around her shoulders, and he has to try and grab another off the rack without his other hand without letting her fall. He just about manages and by pulling her against him to take her weight against his body and free his arm somewhat he manages to wrap it around her.

Nathalie doesn’t look like she’s in any state to walk, and he awkwardly manages to lift her up, and carry her to the bed.

Laying her down on the bed she looks up at him and even with his Miraculous he can’t name the emotion on her eyes.

“It’s ok,” he tells her, “sleep.”

He brushes through her hair with his fingers, and she slowly relaxes underneath him.

Once she’s asleep he tries to straighten on the bundle of towels she’s wrapped in, and accidentally exposes some of her skin above her collarbone.

The tips of the top of letters show that her soulmates name is written between her shoulder and her neck. He thinks absently that that must make the summer difficult with her dedication to hiding it.

Then the towel shifts another half-centimetre and he goes ahead and reads the name and he wants to throw up.

_Gabriel Agreste._

He touches it, tracing it with his fingers as if it might rub off. As if it might be fake when it's obvious it's not.

It's him.

 _Of course_ it's him.

Who else was it going to be?

She'd basically admitted it if he’d listened to what she'd said and not been so distracted by her looming death, and his anger at the system that has inflicted this on her, and his annoyance at her undeserving soulmate. At _himself._

Her lips are a pale pink without their usual lipstick, and slightly parted as she breathes, and the temptation to meet them with his own has never been stronger.

He could take her. Build a life with her. She’d let him. She’s given so much herself over to him already she wouldn’t hesitate to give all of herself.

She’s his soulmate.

Except she’s not.

He’s _her_ soulmate, but she’s not his and she’d never wanted him to know, and he’d just barrelled straight over that the same way he’d steamrolled over every other part of her life.

It’s his quest she’s dying for, and somehow he’s so much worse than he’d ever imagined Nathalie’s nebulous undeserving soulmate.

He pulls the towel back up over her shoulder before can he do something he regrets.

* * *

Much later Nathalie wakes yawning. “Gabriel?”

“I’m here.” He reassures her taking her hand.

“What time is it?” She moves to sit up, and the towel shifts and his other hand shoots to it to hold it in place, and she stills under his touch.

 _“_ You didn’t?” She isn’t able to stop her eyes flicking to her towel covered shoulder.

“No, I didn’t see your soulmark.” He lies to her in the moment, and as she sags in relief he knows he’s made the right choice, “I tried to preserve your modesty as much as I could.”

“It’s ok,” she said, “I know you better than to think you’ve look at me like that. I’ve seen you be professional with models much less covered than I am now.”

A trickle of guilt runs through him at this unwarranted credit.

But then again maybe she’s not giving him too much credit but instead giving herself too little. She’d been so convinced that her soulmate would never be interested in her when if the circumstances were different, if Emilie was truly dead and without any possibility of saving, then he’d have kissed her months ago without knowing she bore his name.

“You’re harder to resist than any of them,” he says unthinkingly and she blushes.

“I should get to work,” she says.

He’d forgotten about work. He’s been sat here watching her chest rise and fall as she breathes terrified that it would stop the whole time.

“No,” he says, “You’re too ill to work. You should stay here. I’ll have the company hire someone new to do your job.”

Her grip on his hand tightens, “You’re replacing me.”

He’s struck suddenly by her doubts that she’d be mourned by her soulmate. He’d told her unknowingly that she would be, but now that seems insufficient.

He takes his glasses off, and her brows furrow in confusion, and then he lies down next to her, and she turns so he can look straight into her eyes.

“I’m replacing my assistant,” he says, and pulls her close trying to ignore how her warmth through the towel reminds him she doesn’t have anything on beneath it, “I’m not replacing _you._ No one else could ever replace you in my life. You’re irreplaceable.” 

“Oh.” Is all she says but she lets him hold her without complaint.

* * *

That Nathalie doesn’t fight him more on the subject of work is a sign of how little badly off she is. She deteriorates day by day, and he’s terrified at the speed of it. He’d thought she’d have more time, he’d thought _he_ had more time, but he still has no new plan to save her.

He should have built a second casket and now it’s too late and both he and Nathalie know she’s a dead woman walking.

He brushes her hair and tries to ignore how brittle it’s got. It’s one of the many little things he’s been trying to do for her, as if anything could make up for what’s he’s done to her, and for the trick fates played on her, and says, “I heard there’s another Miraculous in China. It might be what we need. I thought I could go this week. I’m sure I could find an excuse.”

She lies back against him forcing him to stop. “No.”

“What?”

“Don’t go.”

“But Nathalie this might be,”

“It’s too late Gabriel.” She takes a while to regain her breath. “We know it’s too late. If you go, I don’t know if I’ll be here when you get back. Don’t leave me.”

“Then I won’t leave you,” he agrees, disconcerted by the image of her dying alone, and presses a kiss to the top of her head in reassurance, “I’ll be with you until the end.”

* * *

“Is there anyone you want to see?” He asks, “Family? Friends?”

She shakes her head, and he sighs.

“I think you underestimate your importance to people. You are _very_ important to me, you must know that.”

Her eyes shut. She whispers. “You did see didn’t you?”

It’s hopeless to pretend he doesn’t take her meaning. “ _Nathalie.”_

“It’s ok, you don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not pretending.” He defends himself. “I did see yes, and I lied because I didn’t want to upset you, but everything I’ve said to you, everything I’ve done that’s all the truth. You _are_ important to me, and I’m sorry if you ever doubted that.”

Now he’s started stopping is impossible, “I’m sorry I brought you into all of this, I’m sorry I ruined your life, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t be a match for you. You deserved better than that.”

She starts to cry and he doesn’t know how to fix it. He gently brushes away her tears, “You deserve better than me, and if I could turn back time I’d go back and be what you needed.”

He’s considered it even. Going after the Rabbit Miraculous and forcing this revelation earlier when he might be able to do something about it.

It wouldn’t be easy but it could be _done._ He could text himself from her phone while she’s in the shower, or take over one of his past selves’ akumas and make it cut Mayura’s dress in just the right place. He’s thought about it a lot.

She shakes her head, “You can’t make me your soulmate, you can’t love me.” She smiles weakly, “I know that.”

“No,” he disagrees, “I can’t make you my soulmate but I can love you. Do love you.”

He doesn’t know that it’s the same way he loves Emilie but it’s there.

She blinks at him, and as he looks at into her tearfilled eyes he can’t pretend it’s a familial sort of love either.

He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to her lips.

She smiles a little more truthfully, “I wish you’d said that before.”

“I’m saying it now.” He’s going to say it to her everyday he still has her regardless of the truth of it because it’s worth it to give her a little bit of happiness.

* * *

He holds her in his arms as her life slips away.

* * *

Now he has two people to save, and he’s going to do it even if that makes remaking the whole world in his own image.


	6. T - 2.5 weeks

Adrien bursts into the Atelier, and he's about to remind him that knocking is generally considered polite, and that he shouldn't be interrupting him during work hours anyway, when his son holds up his hand to forestall him.

“It’s Nathalie.” Adrien says, and his heart drops to his feet, “I need your help.”

He puts his pen down, and runs over, “What’s happened?”

“I went to her room to talk to her, and she didn’t answer my knock, so I opened the door to see if she was ok, and she was collapsed on the floor.”

* * *

“Should we move her?” Adrien asks, looking down at Nathalie, with worry painted across his features.

He considers her. With all that's happened his ability to be sure he won’t just harm her further seems in question, but he kneels down and feels round all the limbs and spine anyway.

“I don’t think anything's broken.” He announces, and at that point Nathalie groans and shifts herself making the point quite moot anyway.

She tries to push herself upright a little and fails so he reaches an arm around her to help pull her up to sitting at least.

“Did you hit your head?”

“Hmm? I just felt faint.”

“I meant when you fell.”

“Oh right. I'm not sure.”

“Maybe you should try and stay awake a while just in case. I could stay with you if you want.”

“I can't see it makes much difference. What's the worst that could happen. I die what, a few weeks, days earlier?”

There isn't a good argument to make against that, not when she's _right,_ and not when he knows from Emilie the pain and suffering ahead of her.

Adrien’s gasp reminds him that he doesn’t know. They hadn't told him because they'd meant to solve it, to win before this point, and despite it getting clearer and clearer they won’t win in time they've never discussed talking to him.

He'd vaguely assumed Nathalie would in her own time but it's looking clear that she hadn't.

“ _Die?”_ says Adrien, “What do you mean die a few weeks earlier? Are you dying?”

Nathalie tenses in his arms. “Adrien?” She tries to turn to look at him, “I didn't realise you were here.”

“Yeah I guessed that. What's happening to you? Why didn't you tell me?”

She swallowed, and visibly struggled for words, “I wasn’t sure it was my place to have that sort of conversation with you. I thought your father might have said something.”

Adrien raises his eyebrows at both of them in disbelief, “Well he didn't.”

Feeling the need to defend himself he says, “I thought Nathalie would want to say it herself.”

“I can't believe,” Adrien shakes his head, “Will you tell me now at least?”

“I’m dying.” Nathalie says, “It’s a rare condition and there’s no known cure. We’re not sure how long I have left but, we don't think it's very long.”

Adrien comes and kneels down by them, “And you’re just giving up?”

Nathalie shuts her eyes for a moment he thinks she’s gone to sleep but then she exhales and says, “We’re tried a lot of things Adrien. There’s _nothing_ more to try. I’m tired of trying. I’m sorry. I truly am sorry.”

Gabriel can see more in those words than its possible Adrien does but while Adrien’s here he can hardly tell her that it’s not her fault that they haven’t won yet. He’s fairly certain _that’s_ his failure. He knows she’s given everything she can.

His son throws himself around Nathalie, and Gabriel thinks he might just have ended up in a group hug, then his son starts sobbing, and he feels unsure if he should be doing something. It’s not as if there’s anything he can do to change the situation. Adrien will have to suffer though it the same way he’s going to have to suffer through it, unless he can somehow find some way to save her in time.

* * *

“What were you doing anyway?” He asks, once Adrien’s settled in his own room after a lot of crying and accusations against him, and he comes back to find Nathalie back in bed. “Out of bed?”

There’s reasons for her to be up but none of them explain the open drawers and the bag.

“Packing.”

He sits down hit to her. “I’d guessed at that. Why?”

“I’ve contacted a palliative care hospice.” Nathalie says, “Now it’s getting close to the end I think it’s a good idea for me to move into one.”

“That’s unnecessary. You know I’ll pay for any nursing you’d need.”

“That’d look suspicious. It’s better if my death is as little connected to you as possible.”

It’s a sensible argument but he doesn’t like it and little as he wants bring up the idea of her corpse, “But they wouldn’t _find_ anything in your body, and if we publicly arrange medical care for you, and if you insist bring you to the hospital closer the end, I don’t think anybody’s going to think I secretly poisoned you or anything.”

Even if in a way he _has._

Nathalie sighs, “It’s better this way. Trust me. And it would be better for Adrien. He shouldn’t be around for the end of this.”

“He might want to be.” Now there’s a second women dying for his mistakes it’s easy to see he’s repeating the same mistakes with Adrien, “Sometimes I think that maybe we should have let him be more aware of what was happening with Emilie.”

“I’m sorry.” She says.

“What for?”

“That I wasn’t able to help you save her.” She looks down as if she can’t meet his eyes, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you won’t. I’m sure you will, I just, I’d have liked to known you had her back before I died.”

“I’m certainly not letting you be Mayura again.”

She opens her mouth to speak and his places a finger over her lips to silence her.

“It might only speed things up. I know that. But you saw Adrien, do you really want to leave him faster?”

She doesn’t say anything but he can see her give in.

“And what would we do if you collapsed in the middle of battle?”

She tips her head away from his hand, towards the sideboard so she can speak, “Alright. I’m not really in a state for it I suppose.”

“And,” He hesitates, “Stay here. Please.”

“Gabriel. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Trust me. It’s for the best.”

“I don’t understand, what’s brought all this on?” She’s worsening but nothing’s changed, there’s nothing new except, “Is this because there’s been a set-back in your case to keep your soulmate uninformed?”

He doesn’t understand _why_ that would mean Nathalie should move out of the house, but he thinks that’s he’s right from how she won’t meet his eyes.

“I just don’t understand why they won’t let me. It’s unrequited. It’s not like he’d want to know.”

Gabriel isn’t sure about that. On the one hand she could be right, if the man is married to his soulmate then he assumes it would be quite the shock and could only destabilise his relationship. Yet the man must have some inkling surely, at the very least this must explain some things for him.

“Did you want to move out so you could talk to him about it before it’s too late? I might not allow strangers in the house unless it’s for work but I’m not going to stop your soulmate visiting you.”

“No.” She said. “No that’s not it at all. I really don’t want my soulmate to visit. The last thing I want to do is give him more conversations to question my motives after. In fact when I leave here I don’t want _anyone_ to visit me.”

“What?” That’s madness, “Not me? Not Adrien?”

“Yes.” She nods, “I think that would be a good idea.”

“You saw him just now. You can’t mean that.” He hides behind how betrayed Adrien will feel because it’s easier than admitting his own feelings on the matter.

“You’re right, it will be tough for him.” She takes his hand, “And that’s why I _need_ you to be there for him, promise me that you won’t shut him out this time, that you’ll grieve together.”

“I can try.” He can’t even give her a true promise, but then he _had_ given Emilie one, and look how that had worked out. Maybe he’s just getting better at admitting the truth of his inadequacy. “But if you know that then, _why?_ ”

“My soulmate’s not going to be the only one questioning things. I’d prefer Adrien didn’t feel I’d misled him anymore than I already have when he hears about it.”

That doesn’t seem right to him. It might shatter Adrien’s rose-tinted view of the world to discover that soulmarks can go this wrong but he doubts his son will be anything other than sympathetic to Nathalie. Even if her soulmate _is_ married.

“It can’t be that bad surely?”

“It’s pretty bad.”

“Is,” he can’t see who, other than him, Nathalie could know whose reputation could be that bad but, “your soulmate someone it would be unfortunate for you to be associated with? I mean like a criminal or something?”

She gives an almost hysterical laugh, “You could say that.”

“Are you trying to protect _my_ reputation? I think our connection is too well known for you leaving the house now to help.”

“I think it _would_ help. There’ll be rumours you know, I don’t trust whoever tells my soulmate not to gossip. Not with gossip of this calibre. It’s better if we can hide that I had any special treatment from you. So I’m leaving as soon as possible, _because_ I value you Adrien and,” her voice breaks, “Because I want you to know that, and remember that, even after you learn the truth.”

“I don’t see why knowing who your soulmate is will effect what I think of you,” He says, “I don’t even know that I’ll know who it is, unless you think he’ll take charge of the funeral and arrangements.”

The idea annoys him and he almost misses Nathalie’s guilty expression, but he doesn’t and suddenly it’s like the universe rearranges itself around him, and now _he_ feels like he might fall to the floor, as if gravity’s suddenly increased its pull on him.

“I’ll know because I’m him aren’t I?”

She looks away but doesn’t try to deny it. “Gabriel I never wanted you to know. This doesn’t have to change anything.”

“Yes, yes I realise you never wanted me to know. You made that very clear.” He’s annoyed at that and he doesn’t know why because she was right. He _was_ much happier not knowing. This casts a shadow over _everything_ they’d ever done. All their other conversations on the matter haunt him “You’re had _my name_ the whole time I’ve known you haven’t you?”

She nods, and he can see the fear in her eyes.

And he’s furious. Furious at the system that did this. Furious at himself for never realising when the clues were all there. Furious at her, too, for never saying and staying with him anyway.

“Christ Nathalie. Why the hell did you take the job? Why the hell would you _stay_?”

“I’m sorry.” She says, “I knew it wasn’t a match, I knew you’d throw me out of your life if you knew but I thought, I thought maybe I could still be helpful to you at least. That maybe that’s what I had your name for.” She swallows, “Recently I thought it was so maybe your wish could take me as the exchange for Emilie but obviously that didn’t pan out.”

It’s like she’s thrown cold water over him and his burning fury is replaced with nausea.

“Maybe,” she looks uncertain, “Now you know, If you wanted me to try being Mayura again I still can. I might as well die for you in a helpful way.”

“That’s repulsive.” He snaps. “No we’ll stick with the original plan. You’re staying here, and I’m going to keep looking for a way to save you. And if I do _then_ we can look at getting you out of this mess,” _my life_ he means, “and if we don’t then at least you’ll be here with people that care about you.”

The shock on her face makes him realise that he might just have given her false hope.

“You _still_ care about me?” She asks, and it guts him.

“You’re the only person that I’ve been able to rely on through all of this, I can’t just throw that away because fate has done this to us.”

She looks at him like he’s some sort of miracle and he doesn’t deserve that and hurries to tell her so, “But I don’t,” He can’t say it, “I can’t,” he chickens out, “reciprocate your feelings. I _have_ a soulmate and I,”

Nathalie interrupts him. “Love her. I know. And I know that you’d never feel like that for me even if you’d never met her. Watching the two of you almost made all of it worthwhile.”

He’d meant to say _promised_ her. Promised her to be faithful at the altar, and promised her to bring her back at her deathbed.

And he thinks Nathalie’s wrong. In a world where he didn’t have Emilie. In a world were there wasn’t a chance to save Emilie then he could have, _would_ have viewed her romantically.

But they don’t live in that world so telling her that just feels cruel.

“It’s not you.” He tells her, “You deserve a true match, I just can’t be it.”

* * *

He wishes he’d never known. Or not until afterwards at least. 

All it’s done is made his last few days with Nathalie a nest of awkwardness.

They’d always been so comfortable with each other. She’d understood him like no one had. They’d barely needed to talk some times.

Now they’re both second guessing every action. Wondering if it’s too much, or what it means. He can’t even support her without wondering if it’s too much like an embrace, and if he should be doing that if it is.

Even _Adrien’s_ noticed the atmosphere between them.

And he can tell she hates it as much as he does.

But he can’t fix it because the only way he can think to fix it would be to lie to her. To pretend that his feelings for her and his feelings for Emilie are the same and they’re _not._

* * *

It doesn’t help that he keeps thinking of kissing her.

He’d thought about it before, but since this revelation it keeps intruding into his brain.

He’s her _soulmate._ Why shouldn’t he?

Because she’s his friend and he shouldn’t take advantage of her more than he already has.

* * *

Nathalie’s eating less and less and she’s awake less and less and he’s knows it’s a matter of days if it’s even that and he’s starting to think he made a mistake.

She’s plenty of painkillers running through her system but he knows she’s in pain anyway and _he should have just lied._

After everything she’d done for him he should have just pretended he could give her what she wanted instead of the awkward mess of what he’d made of the end of her life.

Emilie would have had to have understood. It’s not as if they could have done anything anyway. Not in the state Nathalie’s in. It would just have been comforting the only other person in his life other than their son that he’s ever cared about.

It’s too late now. She’s so confused all the time she might not even understand it if he said he loved her.

* * *

She’s dead now and he thinks it might not have been a lie.

* * *

The only way forward is to stop. Stop and think. He’d been clumsy in his attacks. Fumbling around. Killing Nathalie. Now he has to be _think_ and _plan_ how he can use both the Butterfly and the Peacock to their best effect.

Or he plans to. What actually happens is that Adrien finds him staring at them. He closes his hand over them before his son can see.

“Father?” Adrien sits down next to him. “I miss Nathalie too.”

“I’ve made a mistake.” He tells him.

“What sort of mistake?”

He’s still too much of a coward to admit it. Instead he opens his hand, and Adrien looks at the two brooches lying there in confusion. “What if there was a way we could fix it?”

Nathalie had wanted him not to shut his son out this time.

Adrien’s attention is riveted by the brooches, but his response is careful, “Fix it?”

He lifts up the Butterfly and pins it to his son’s jacket. He’s not losing another person to the Peacock fixed or not. “What if the was a way we could bring her back?”

When he looks up Adrien is staring at him in horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I'm so awful to Adrien in so many of these.


	7. T - 1 month/1 week

The knowledge of Nathalie’s unnamed soulmate irritates him, and it only gets worse as time goes on, like a tiny stone stuck in his shoe that he can’t get rid of.

Apparently paying for a lawyer doesn’t _actually_ mean you can make them waive their client confidentiality although he thinks that if he keeps working at it he can break the man down.

He’s forced to leave the house these days; now that spending Nathalie out by herself isn’t safe anymore, and both of them are stuck in a licensing meeting with a pair of soulmates who’ve recently found each other.

It’s sickening.

He and Emilie had been like that once. He can admit that, and he can admit that much of his disgruntlement is envy.

It must be just as bad for Nathalie who retreats into a formality shorn of any hint of human emotions which is extreme even for her.

He curses that they’d agreed to meet in a hotel restaurant instead of at an office because it means they’re stuck there finishing drinks even as their business is concluding and when they offer to get another round he can’t refuse because he can’t offend them.

Whether it’s the drink, or the casual environment, or just the giddy rush of being in the first shoots of love one of them reaches an arm around the other, and let’s his head rest on his shoulder.

He wants to claim he’d never do something so unprofessional but he knows it’s a lie. He’d always let Emilie do whatever she wanted, and he looks at them and he aches from longing.

Nathalie, he realises after a while, has a mirroring ache inside her. Usually he doesn’t notice her emotions so this must be particularly strong. His heart breaks for her. At least he had _had_ Emilie for a while. She’s never had her soulmate, and it’s not right.

Wrapping his own arm around her shoulders he pulls her close. She stiffens, but then relaxes into his hold. It feels natural and once again he almost wishes that their soulmarks didn’t come between them.

* * *

The memory of her there lingers in her mind after. She’d hungered for more than that, and he can’t help but wonder if she could possibly be wrong about her soulmate because who would reject Nathalie?

He wonders if there isn’t anything he can do to push the man towards her. To, and they’re going to save her somehow, but if they don’t to give her a final bit of happiness in her life.

He takes out his tablet to consider what he knows.

Nathalie’s soulmate is:

  * Male
  * Married
  * Married to someone he considers his soulmate
  * Someone close to her



It’s a paltry list. He doesn’t know her social circle, but he knows that she keeps to herself and it’s not large. Even so the above is hardly going to rule many people out.

He tries harder. Nathalie’s soulmate is:

  * Someone she’d known before Emilie had got ill, because that’s when she’d broken up with her ex-boyfriend who found his soulmate, and she’d been dating him for a while because she’d known her soulmate wasn’t available.
  * Someone said ex-boyfriend knows of, because she’d told him, but not necessarily someone he knows.
  * Not someone she’d known her whole life. At a guess he’d say someone she met as an adult. She’d introduced herself to them when she already had her mark.
  * Someone whose feelings Nathalie cares more about than her own. Though that doesn’t narrow it down. Nathalie’s just like that.



He resists the temptation to add someone who clearly doesn’t deserve her. It’s the truth but it doesn’t help him work it out.

  * Someone _he_ knows. There’d been a caginess to his lawyer’s response when he’d questioned him that was more than just the man worrying about his ethics.



Nathalie’s _not_ close to anyone he knows well though. Certainly not anyone male and married to their soulmate.

“What do you think?” He turns to ask Emilie’s portrait, “Any ideas?”

She stares down at him silently, and he feels a sudden urge to see her alive and in motion and he brings up a video on his phone.

Emilie twirls showing off the ripple in the skirt in the dress she’s being fitting for.

Adrien’s fingers block up the view for a second, but then they reveal Emilie once again, and he can hear Nathalie explaining to Adrien that he had to be careful filming using her tablet or they wouldn’t have the video, see, and the screen steadies as she must place a hand on it to support it.

Then he sees himself as he gets Emilie to stand still, so he can put a pin in the draping fabric at the back of the dress and ensure there’s a clear view of his name on her back.

He calls Nathalie over for a spare pair of hands, and the video shits downwards a little, but Adrien doesn’t do a bad job of keeping it steady.

There’s nothing special about the next few moments but something makes him replay it.

There’s a moment where his finger graze his name on Emilie, and her head turns to look at him, and they both smile at each other with no idea what’s coming.

It’s a lovely moment but it isn’t special, so he doesn’t know why he’s fixating on it.

Then he notices the expression on Nathalie’s face.

It’s only there for a second, but for that second she looks sad.

He might be overthinking it. He’d seen today how being in the presence of a matched pair of soulmates can upset her but the thing is _he fits every single thing he knows about Nathalie’s soulmate._

The implication is horrific. That he could have worked with her for all those years totally unknowing.

For a moment he feels revulsion at the idea that she’d do that, that she’d come into his life, be the closest person to him other than Emilie, and be hiding this all the time.

He even considers that maybe she’s been sabotaging their quest, trying to deprive him the way he’s deprived her before he reprimands himself. _This_ is exactly what she’d feared. _This_ is why she’d never wanted to tell him.

And he shouldn’t have even considered the idea because he knows her better than to think that of her.

No, the horror here is that she’s dedicating her life to him, and he’s taken it, and he’s never even tried to look into why, and it could be because he’s her soulmate and he’s _never_ done anything to deserve that.

He has to find out if he’s right.

* * *

The question is how.

He considers and dismisses a lot of ideas.

* * *

Nathalie stumbles and he catches her.

“I’m sorry.” She says, looking up at him as if she fears his reaction.

“Don’t be.” He means it. Everything that’s happened to her is his fault, and he hates that, and hates that she fears him too.

She’s still looking up at him, and because she’s there, and because he can he kisses her.

Instead of softening under him like he halfway expects she stiffens and her lips stay clamped shut.

He pulls away releasing her, and she steps back out of her task, “What are you _doing?”_

“It’s not me then?” He asks dully. He’d been so sure.

“What’s not you?”

“I thought maybe _I_ was your soulmate. It seemed to fit.”

“What?” Nathalie takes another step back, “No you’re not, why would you think that, no of course you’re not, it’s, it’s” She looks around the room in panic, “someone else. Definitely someone else” she finishes lamely.

“It _is_ me.” He realises at her panicked claims.

“No, no, it’s _not._ ”

“Stop lying Nathalie.”

The fight drains out of her. “How did you find out?”

“I worked it out. I’m not sure how I didn’t work it out earlier,” he walks towards her and she doesn’t stop him when reaches up to cradle the side of her face, “I should have known from your devotion.”

“Sir, it doesn’t have to change anything.”

He can’t see how it cannot. “It has to. Don’t you see _this_ is how we save you. I’m not letting you get involved in any of this anymore. We’ll find a way to cure you, and then we’re done with all of this, we can rebuild together.”

She’s been marked out by the universe as perfect for him. If anyone can help him fix his life, and his family without a Miraculous then it’s _her_.

Nathalie rolls her eyes. “Are you telling me you have my name?”

The reminder feels like a punch his centre and he can see she takes his silence as answer enough.

“You have _Emilie._ She’s your true match, and she’s who we’re doing all of this for. I’m not letting everything that’s happened be for nothing.”

“But,” he tries.

“No buts.” She says, “No ifs. I’ll do anything for you, and if you truly are my soulmate then you’ll do anything for her.”

“I know, and I will but,”

“It’s my decision to make Gabriel,” She softens and mirrors him with her own hand, “It’s…sweet that you thought you had to do this, but you don’t owe me anything. Just let me help you.”

* * *

Nathalie steals the Peacock Miraculous from the safe and the Butterfly Miraculous from his chest one night. How he doesn’t wake up for the latter he doesn’t know. He thinks maybe she drugged him.

He sleeps through her battle with the heroes when she pushes both herself and both brooches to their limits, and then to the end.

He wakes to the photos of Chat Noir crying over her body.

* * *

Adrien comes to him with both broken brooches in his hand. “Fix this.”


	8. T - ??????

Old buildings are a _menace._ He knew he should have just sent Nathalie to review the possible location for the show but he’s been trying to spare her exertion given her condition.

He hadn’t thought he’d bled when he’d bashed his head going down those stairs but now he’s washing his hair he thinks he must have skinned it or something because he can feel a little scab, or some type of bump at least.

One day he’s going to find someone equally suffering from low doorways and akumatise them to give them the power to heighten every stupidly low roof in this city and Ladybug had better not ever consider using her powers to set everything back to how it was.

* * *

When he’s done with his shower and dressed for bed he tries to check it in the mirror but the angle doesn’t work.

He tries to take a photo with his phone, and there’s _something_ dark near where he thinks the lump is but it’s impossible to see what it is through his hair. It’s concerning though and his mind goes wild with images of melanoma or something worse.

Parting his hair and holding the phone is impossible and he gives up and sends a text to Nathalie to come to his room.

She knocks, oddly uncertainly given that he’d been the one to summon her, but he lets her in and explains the situation.

He sits down on the bed to make it easier for her, but she frowns at the angle and kneels on the bed next to him, and he tries not to react as her fingers run through his hair leaving tingling trails on his scalp.

They stop.

He waits for her to take the photo but the expected shutter sound of the phone camera doesn't come.

“Nathalie?”

“I think someone else should take this sir.”

“What are you talking about? Why would I get someone else to do it when you’re right here?”

“It’s,” She inhales, “I’m not sure you’ll believe it if it comes from me.”

His irritation rises, “Take the photo.”

She does and passes him the phone as if she’s passing him a compulsory liquidation order for the company.

He stares at it.

Between the strands of grey and blonde is the name Nathalie Sancoeur.

“I didn’t write it there sir,” Nathalie promises, “I didn’t.”

His reaction is delayed but, “I didn’t think you did.”

There’s no fading or blurring from his shower. This is a soulmark. He instinctively reaches for Emilie’s on his wrist but that’s still there too. This is a _second_ soulmark, and suddenly it’s like his entire world has tipped upside down.

Nathalie moves to get off the bed and he catches her and pins her down before she can do.

“I’m yours aren’t I?” He _has_ to be. It’s the only thing that makes sense and he's let her go so long thinking it’s unrequited.

She gives an unhappy nod, and doesn’t look much like a women who’s just discovered she _does_ have a match after all.

“Can I see it?” He asks.

“That’s a little difficult.” She says, “It’s here,” she touches between her shoulder and her neck.

There’s no way her polo neck will pull down to expose it, and his hands go to the bottom of her top instead, fingers curling around the edge before the feeling of her skin against them makes him abruptly realise what he's doing.

“May I?” He asks.

She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Go ahead.”

He tugs her top off over her head exposing her bare skin and utilitarian bra and she lets him. She lifts herself off the bed enough he can do it but otherwise stays passive waiting for his reaction.

He's not unaffected, and he instinctively tries to squash his reaction and remember she's not his to look at like this and then his eyes catch on her soulmark, on _his_ name, and he realises he’s allowed to.

His soulmate lies below him. His _second_ soulmate. He's been blessed in a way barely anybody in the world is and all he’s done with it is kill both of them in the same way.

Nathalie's still watching him wide eyed and the sound of her breathing, made loud by the same adrenaline he can see in the tenseness of her body, reminds him that she's _not_ dead yet.

There's still a chance they can save her.

And now there’s a possibility he can convince her not to throw her life away. That he can give her a reason not to.

He leans down and gently, carefully, presses his lips to hers.

Her lips are soft but unmoving and she keeps them firmly pressed together.

He pulls away to better see her face but it’s set to careful neutrality as if he’s a difficult client or important business partner instead of her soulmate.

“Gabriel,” she says, “You don’t have to,”

“What if I want to?” he says, kissing the end of her nose and _there_ that was almost a smile from her. He pulls off her glasses and puts them in the bedside table. 

“What,” he kisses her cheek this time, “if” her forehead, “I” the top of her ear and she giggles clearly ticklish, “want”, her other cheek, “to”, he continues to pepper her with kisses between each word, “make things up to my,” his reaches her soulmark, “soulmate.”

She relaxes under him at that last word. “I suppose I know you too well to think it's possible to convince you otherwise once you've your mind set in something.”

“That's right.” He agrees. He pushes a stay strand of hair he'd dislodged off her face. “I have been quite possibly the worst soulmate in the world to you, but I'm going to fix it, I'm going to treat you like you deserve.”

Her lips part slightly and he takes her reaction as sign and kisses them again and this time she opens up to him, and she tastes oh so sweet, and he wants to know why he spent so much time resisting this.

Her arms reach up around him, and he lets her pull their bodies together, and feels her gasp when she feels his interest press against her.

None of it feels wrong like it always had when he’d let himself imagine this. It feels _right._ She’s his _soulmate._ If Emilie was here she’d understand that.

It’s hard to make himself pull away but he forces himself to.

She looks at him in question.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, “I know you haven’t recovered.”

Nathalie pouts but she says, “We probably should slow down anyway. This is quite the adjustment for you.”

“And for you?”

“And for me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and her expression turns quizzical, “I left you alone all these years, I should have been there for you, and it never even occurred to me to look.”

“Why would you?” Nathalie replies, “You had Emilie. It's not like multiple soulmarks are common. For all we know my name on you is new.”

It's a nice idea. That maybe he and Nathalie were _meant_ to fall together when he lost Emilie. That maybe he’s not betraying anyone by taking this. That the universe itself knows Emilie’s gone, and it’s telling him that he can stop and save the woman lying below him right now.

It’s a horrible idea. That he’s been pushing against fate in what he’s been doing and killing Nathalie when he’s been meant to be loving her. That he was never going to succeed. That he was never meant to save Emilie.

It’s a reductive idea. As if Nathalie and Emilie are interchangeable dolls instead of living breathing complex people. As if he’s just supposed to love whichever one is more convenient, and abandon the other.

It doesn’t matter, because he has a suspicion it’s not the truth, “Mine isn't on you though is it?”

She swallows. “No.”

He wants to kiss that sadness off her face. To prove he treasures her.

“How long?”

“Just before I interviewed with you.” She admits, and he wants to cry, _that long,_ “that's _why_ I interviewed with you. I knew you and Emilie were a match-I’d looked you up, but I still thought maybe, and then you didn't react to me as anything other than a job candidate.”

“Oh Nathalie.”

“I shouldn't have taken the job. That was stupid of me, but I hadn't got anything _else_ I’d interviewed for and I guess I rationalised that maybe _that_ was why I had your name, that maybe I was always just supposed to help you.”

“You don’t have Emilie too I suppose?”

“No. That would be a little _too_ neat I suppose.”

“I wouldn't call any of this _neat.”_

He’d like to collapse down but he doesn’t want to hurt her so he rolls off her instead, and pulls her over so she’s half lying on him, and half on the bed. “I suppose not. I will fix this though Nathalie I promise. There’s not going to be any more Mayura.”

“But Emilie,”

“Had her soulmate for longer than I’ve known you. I think you’re owed some years of your own.”

“What, are we going to wait what, fifteen or twenty years and _then_ try and go back to reviving her? We’d be a little old for these sorts of adventures.”

He doesn’t know. Not really. He’d never considered this but what he does know is that he’s not letting Nathalie go. “I don’t know. I’ll work it out, but we’re saving you first. We’ll save you, and then only after that will we work out what to do with her.”

“OK,” she says and he can feel her acceptance in how she shifts to make herself more comfortable against him, “We’ll do that then.”

* * *

“Oh god,” Nathalie says, startling him out of sleep, “ _Adrien.”_

“Will be fine with it.” He reassures her. “Trust me.”


	9. T - ??????b

“You don’t have Emilie too I suppose?”

She blushes.

“You _do?_ ” He breathes in shock. He hadn’t thought. He'd never expected. He doesn’t deserve this at all.

A world of possibilities opens up in front of him, and he dares to hope but, “You only mentioned _one_ soulmate.”

She shrugs. “I wasn’t exactly worried about _Emilie_ finding out when I died. And I thought that might have made it a little _too_ obvious.”

“I don’t know.” He admits, “With how blind I’ve been I could have missed it.”

It was, he thinks a deliberate blindness. She only got away with hiding it because he hadn’t wanted to look.

“Where is she on you?” He asks, “Can I see her name?”

Unless Emilie’s name is under her bra, or on her back he doesn’t think it’s anywhere on her upper body but his eyes roam over her anyway.

Nathalie sits up and smirks “Are you trying to undress me M.Agreste?”

 _Not_ her back then.

“Can you blame me?” He says.

“It seems a little lopsided.” She says, “Let me see her on you first.”

He could just roll up the sleeve of his pyjama top, but she _is_ right. They are uneven. So he pulls it off even if he realises this is really not helpful for their decision not to go any further.

Nathalie traces Emilie’s name on his arm, and he lets her, utterly captivated.

Then she looks up. “I should fulfil my side I guess”, and she slides down her trousers exposing her legs to him.

The curl of the top of an E coils out from the inside of one of her thighs, and he gently nudges her legs apart, to find Emilie’s name near the top of her inner thigh.

“She was easier to hide than you.”

Harder to show off too. He'd always delighted on making clothes for Emilie which showed off his name on her upper back. It had been a convenient placement. Easy to hide for any roles she took, but easy to expose for the when she was just herself too.

His name on Nathalie isn’t dissimilar. More difficult to hide than it had been for Emilie but he’s going to pry her out of her polo necks and into bateau necklines for a start. Getting her to show off Emilie’s name is going to be a bit more difficult.

He knows better than to bring it up now but, “Emilie Agreste?” he says instead “Not Emilie Graham de Vanilly?”

That they don’t match exactly feels weirdly disappointing but he also has an utterly unearned sense of pride at seeing his surname on Nathalie twice, and seeing that she is so clearly meant for he and Emilie together. It might be difficult to make her Nathalie Agreste but she’s marked as an Agreste twice over.

Nathalie shrugs, “She was married to you already when it appeared.”

He touches Emilie’s name on her thigh, and then he leans in to kiss it, because this is proof that this isn’t a betrayal _at all._

The three of them have lost so many years.

“Do you,” Nathalie hesitates, “Do you think she has me? I always assumed she didn’t but then I always assumed _you_ didn’t.”

He looks up so he can look her in the eyes. “I’m sure she does. I might never have found it, but I can’t see that you and I both have the other two and she doesn’t.”

“Oh,” Nathalie smiles, and he can’t help but kiss her.

“We’re saving you first.” He says. He can’t lose both of them. He _can’t._ “We’ll save you, and then when you’re well and healthy, we’ll work out a way to save her together. You’ve always been the better planner anyway.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you admit that.” She says with a smirk, before it drops off her face, “What happens after though, do we relocate to Abu Dhabi or somewhere so you can be married to both of us?”

He smiles, “Now that _is_ a nice idea, but I don’t know. We’ve time to figure it out. Let’s focus on saving you both first.”

He means it. First Nathalie. Then Emilie. 

Gabriel Agreste is going to do whatever it takes to save _both_ his soulmates.


End file.
